Revolution 9
by whatsamatta
Summary: Chaos. Chaos. Chaos. Chaos. Chaos. It was like a broken record playing in his head over and over and over. And he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop it. Chaos. Slight AU. Slight.
1. Revolution 1

_**Disclaimer: Hey! Arnold doesn't belong to me. Now, in my absence I found that multitasking is not my forte`. And as for this story, it was inspired by a mix of Beatles tunes and a long drive home – in case you're curious.**_

HA

"Hey Crazy, wake up!"

Cold water splashing across his face jolted Curly awake from his dreaming. Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to use the residual feeling of content to chase after linger memories – something to do with a dark haired, dark eyed woman. A swift kick to his left shin, however, forced his eyes open and the memories to fade.

New ones flooded his mind when he saw he was tied to a chair with his wrists bound to the arms. So he was still here? That would make it about thirty hours then that he'd been in that chair, locked in a room. And all for what? To be interrogated by a couple of trigger-happy and sadomasochistic government lackeys.

"So, Crazy, are you ready to talk yet?" the man he affectionately named Tweedledum, a big guy with probably a bigger appetite, questioned as he brought his sneering face into Curly's immediate rang of sight. For his part, Curly just sighed with his head hung low.

"Thaddeus. My name is Thaddeus, not Crazy. Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe. Why does no one remember that?" he muttered, and the larger man laughed as he pulled out a cigarette. He flicked open the lighter and held a flame, letting it dance in front of Thaddeus for a bit before bringing it to the cancer stick. Taking a relieving drag, Tweedledum smiled sadistically and brought the ash a little too close to Curly's arm. When he didn't get the desired response, he decided to try again.

"You're a hard one to crack, Crazy. You know that, right? Maybe I should just go through with it and burn a nice cigarette scar in that white skin of yours." Still no response, Tweedledum held it dangerously close to Curly's limb, and thought he may have burnt some hair, "Shit you're good." Tweedledum almost smirked at the balls the prisoner in front of him possessed.

"That's because I know you won't burn me."

That was it. No pleads for freedom, no cursing, no nothing. Just a statement – but it certainly had Tweedledum hooked.

"Oh, and how is that?"

"Convention (I) for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Wounded and Sick in Armed Forces in the Field. Geneva, 12 August 1949; Art. 3: In the case of armed conflict not of an international character occurring in the territory of one of the High Contracting Parties, each Party to the conflict shall be bound to apply, as a minimum, the following provisions:

"Sub Article 1: Persons taking no active part in the hostilities, including members of armed forces who have laid down their arms and those placed hors de combat by sickness, wounds, detention, or any other cause, shall in all circumstances be treated humanely, without any adverse distinction founded on race, color, religion or faith, sex, birth or wealth, or any other similar criteria.

"To this end, the following acts are and shall remain prohibited at any time and in any place whatsoever with respect to the above-mentioned persons: part a: violence to life and person, in particular murder of all kinds, mutilation, cruel treatment and torture." Curly recited, and nearly made his captor drop the roll of nicotine from his lips. Suddenly though, he chuckled and Curly finally looked up from the floor to see what was so funny.

"Alright Crazy, you're pretty good. But who's to say I still don't just torture the shit out of you physically, kill you after you give me the information I'm looking for, and then cover it up?" Tweedledum asked, and Curly smirked.

"Come on Tweedledum, you may be reckless but you're not stupid. I have family members and friends who would ask a lot of questions. You think they wouldn't put two and two together? Me disappearing after staging a public rally, and not three weeks after returning to the country? Just because I wasn't in the Middle East doesn't make it any less suspicious – isn't that what you first told me when we started this sleep over?" Curly almost wanted to laugh at the look the man gave him after being called Tweedledum, but held it in as the door behind him opened and shut swiftly.

"Well I must say, this one certainly is good. Intelligent too, no doubt. Tell me Mr. Gammelthorpe, are you a Straight A student?" a voice asked from behind him, and even thought he couldn't see the face, Thad could picture it just fine. Clean and somewhat slicked back blonde hair, glasses that always had light reflecting off them so no one could see his eyes, and a lanky frame. Of his two interrogators, this one was who Thaddeus feared. While Tweedledum was a big guy and talked tough, he knew the guy would never actually hurt him. Rough him up a bit, sure, but not mutilate. But Tweedledee was cold and calculated. Curly knew that this man would do far worse than kill him and not think twice about it.

Yet even with this knowledge, Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe was never one to play it safe.

"Now that's a stupid question. Tweedledee, you know that I know that you have my entire life on file. But in case you didn't do your homework: I like to think of myself more as an accomplished Straight C student." Tweedledum snickered, but a firm throat clearing from Tweedledee killed it.

"Yes Mr. Gammelthorpe, I thought that would be your answer. So instead of roughing you up physically, I thought we'd take a different approach." He stepped around the chair, and Curly caught sight of a syringe nearly filled with a bright, ice blue liquid, "Now this method takes a lot longer, but mind you it's a lot more fun. And harder to trace in case you wish to pursue legal action. Mr. Gammelthorpe, I'd like to introduce you to the future of Intelligence Gathering, or torture as you're so quick to call it."

Tweedledee nodded to Tweedledum, who lunged at him to hold him more in place. Curly thrashed about, his baser instincts trying to escape, but only seemed to aide the men. All his stress helped expose his jugular vein. Tweedledee took advantage of this, and stepped forward, injecting the serum into Curly's blood stream.

The effects were instantaneous.

His mind became cloudy, not drunk or high cloudy, but more like crowded. There were too many things going on at once. Sounds, lights, colors, voices, he couldn't process it all. It was like he was in the passenger seat in a car on the highway, and the car was going so fast he could look at the scenery. And he could only see forward.

There were men shouting words he couldn't hear clearly, couldn't understand. And screams, so full of agony and fear that he could feel his heart drop. The images of Tweedledee and Tweedledum were blurry and unstable, Curly had to close his eyes because he started feeling nauseous. But that didn't help, he could still hear cries, still hear gun shots, still hear chaos. Someone close by let loose a pained scream, and it took a moment for Thad to realize that it was him. The colors and images kept speeding by, almost as if picking up momentum, and he could take it anymore.

_Is this what Schizophrenia feels like?_ Was all he had time to think before his mind gave in to a welcoming darkness.

*

When he next awoke, he was in an alley about eight blocks from the high school. It was bleak outside, rainy but not dark, probably about ten in the morning. All around him he could smell hard liquid coming from further down the dark passageway, and he himself reeked of urine.

With a groan, he heaved himself off the ground, catching sight of a small piece of paper fall from his chest. Picking it up, he felt his heart once again sink.

_Wonderful, isn't it? The episodes will come and go without warning, so there is no hope of controlling it. We have the only antidote, so the sooner you give up the information, the sooner you'll be free. We'll be in touch._

There was more written, but as it was the rain had washed it away, and was working on what he already read. With an exhausted sigh, Curly crumpled the note and threw it towards the other trash that littered the ground around him. It was useless to him now anyway; all he really wanted was a shower, and sandwich, and a good sleep. Slowly, he made his way out from between the buildings and towards his apartment. His body ached all over and his joints popped with every step and movement.

He had two episodes on the way back, to which all he could do was sit down against the nearest building or lamp post and close his eyes, praying it would soon pass. Sure enough, those few times made him more than willing to comply with the government for once in his life and give them the information they wanted. But there was just one problem with that.

He didn't have it.

He wasn't a terrorist. He was just a kid with poor-ish grades and a suspicious last name who left the country to visit some relatives. So what if China was now spitting out a few pretty good terrorist plots against America? The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave was birthing some pretty good groups as well, but did the feds and the CIA go out and arrest every Buddy and Tommy? The Good Ol' American boys who join the military as a front? Nope. They rather go after the Gammelthorpes and the Chens and the Jeons and the al-Mihdhars and the al-Hazmis and the al-Shehhis. Go figure.

As he collapsed through the door of his empty home, smelling even more of urine and now vomit, he couldn't help but wonder what his friends would think if they knew. Of course he wouldn't tell them, Tweedledee and Tweedledum might round them up and do the same to them that they did to him. He couldn't put them through that, but it didn't stop his wondering.

Arnold would probably insist they go to the authorities – never mind that the damn authorities are the ones that did this to him. Helga would volunteer to beat the crap out of all of them. The rest of the gang would probably either side with one of the two – they always were a little like sheep in that sense. And Rhonda . . .

Rhonda would more than anything just say that this affirmed thoughts that he was crazy. She was always good for that, tearing him down and refusing his affection. And yet he still loved her, maybe more than ever. A few tears rolled down his cheeks but he didn't notice as he heaved himself into the bathroom, turning the hot water on full blast.

No way was Rhonda ever going to return his affections now.

HA


	2. If I Fell

_**Disclaimer: Hey! Arnold and the Beatles do not belong to me. **_

HA

The classroom was silent, save for the scratching of lead pencils onto paper. All the seats, save one, were filled with studious and semi-studious teenagers trying to finish their homework before the period was over and lunch began. Their teacher, an ever-observant man in his late forties, was sleeping deeply in his chair, feet propped on the desk and a snore escaping his mouth every other five minutes.

One young man with a football shaped head lifted his face from the work sheet to yawn and stretch his sore muscles. Eyes scanning the room, they fell upon the empty chair and lingered there for a moment before bouncing to the blonde next to him.

"I wonder where Curly is." He wondered out loud, causing those closest to him to look up as well. It was strange, this was day three of his absence and no one knew where he was. His sister Jolene hadn't even come in with an excuse.

"Yeah, it's odd, even for that crazy boy to be gone for more than a day without contacting _someone_." Helga agreed, and Arnold nodded dumbly with her.

"Perhaps our friend had a family crisis to deal with." Phoebe suggested, to which her boyfriend clicked his tongue.

"Nah, he's probably just freeing the animals from the zoo again." Gerald shrugged off, and Rhonda laughed. Gathering everyone else's papers, she brought them to the desk and set them beside the teacher's feet before turning to her friends.

"Probably biting the heads off of chickens." She stated smartly with a flip of her hair.

"And that was just the one time." A weary and rough voice added from the door. All heads turned towards Curly, who was slumped against the doorframe, dark bags under his eyes and looking a bit more than disheveled.

"Curly!" a few of his friends called out in surprise, and he smiled while massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Hey guys. Is it almost lunch? Cause I'm tired and just want to sleep for forty five minutes." He whined, and was answered by the bell ringing in annoyance. With a smirk, he turned and disappeared from the doorway, leaving everyone in confusion. Slowly they followed his steps down the halls, first one by one and then in a large group, although he was lost in the sea of students rushing towards the cafeteria.

They found him at a deserted table, his head collapsed on his arms and sound asleep, even with all the noise. To say the gang was amazed would be an understatement; it took more than the need for a nap to get someone to sleep in the high school lunch room.

"What do you think happened to him?" Helga asked when it was found that tapping him and calling his name wouldn't rouse him. The others just shrugged and proceeded to think up theories that could seem even remotely plausible to explain Curly's behavior. That was how they spent the whole forty five minutes allotted for lunch; to which Curly didn't wake once.

It was only after the first warning bell rang out, and they had started off in their separate ways that Arnold noticed one person was missing. Looking behind him, he found Curly still asleep at the table. He turned his attention to Rhonda, who just so happened to be standing next to he and Helga, and gave her the greatest pity look the Lloyd heir had ever seen. At least, from Arnold.

"Rhonda, would you please go get him?" he asked in his do-gooder voice, and Rhonda rolled her eyes.

"Why should I have to get the little freak? I say let him be late." She snapped a bit harsher than intended, but her companions said nothing about her tone.

"Well, because you two have the same class." Arnold started, as he and Helga slowly back away.

"And because you're closer!" his girlfriend shouted from down the hall, and Rhonda turned to see the retreating backs of her friends running towards their next class. With a few choice words under her breath that would make her mother cringe, Rhonda stomped her foot and marched angrily towards the snoozing Gammelthorpe. Slapping him on the back of the head, she allowed a small smirk of satisfaction to cross her lips as he lifted his face with a moan.

"Hey Crazy, wake up!" she tried to keep the hostility out of her voice, and thought she did a pretty good job. But he still stiffened at her words, turning slowly towards her face. It was only after he saw it was Rhonda who woke him did he relax, though Rhonda could still see some lingering unease in his gaze. Somehow that made her feel uncomfortable, and so she smiled softly.

"Hey, come on before you make us both late for class." She said quietly, and for the first time he looked away from her and noticed how empty the cafeteria was. He nodded, and let her help him up – although this she was aware she did – and the two made their way down the desolate halls towards the gym.

Rhonda watched in quiet interest as Curly ran his hands along the wall of lockers, delighting in the soft drumming of his hands along the metal. He looked dazed, no focus in his eyes. She was about to suggest he go home and just sleep until he can't anymore – when suddenly he stopped walking.

Turning on her heel to look at him, Rhonda found him standing in one place, shivering almost as if he were cold, something akin to fear on his face. Taking a step towards him, she was disturbed to find that her touch caused him to jump, although he still wouldn't look at anything but a spot only he could see.

". . . Curly . . . ?" she trailed off, unsure of what she had wanted to say. At the sound of her voice, he finally looked at her, and Rhonda felt her stomach drop at the look on his face.

"Rhonda . . ." he managed to croak out before collapsing in a heap against the lockers. He started shaking uncontrollably almost as if he were having a seizure. But she knew it wasn't one, because from what she learned watching those graphic health class videos, people lose focus and consciousness during seizures. Curly's eyes were wide and certainly focused; they were trained on her and filled with that unmistakable emotion of dread. He was scared.

And looking at Rhonda for comfort.

She could tell that he was seeing something, but she had no idea what it could be. Grabbing his face, she tried to hold him still, to keep him from whipping about and hurting himself. His eyes blazed as his own hands flew to hers, gripping them in a vice as he shuddered violently.

"Curly, Curly, calm down. I'm here, I'm here now. Shh, hush, calm down." She spoke softly, saying the first things that came into her head. Little did she know that he couldn't hear her words, or even the tone she used.

*

His mind was total and utter chaos. Nothing but shouts and screams and bangs and colors. He couldn't think, couldn't focus, could barely see the woman kneeling before him. The drug flowing through his veins was consuming him, overheating and over-pumping his blood and nearly sending him into cardiac arrest. But somehow, his vision began returning, even as the noise in within his mind grew more intense.

Reading her lips, he tried to decipher what she was saying, but couldn't and ended up rocking back and forth. And so Curly's fearful orbs traveled up to her eyes, and found the concern there to be the most comforting thing he had ever felt. He could feel her hands on his cheeks, and took hold of them, afraid that if he let go, Rhonda would disappear and he would be lost to the pandemonium of his mind.

"_Shh, hush. I'm here now. Curly; Curly! Thaddeus! Thaddeus, calm down . . ._" a soft voice entered the back of his mind, and he slowly came to the realization that it was her voice, Rhonda's. She was trying to calm him down, and she even called him by his name. Had she ever called him anything other than Curly or a derogatory for insane?

Rhonda breathed a sigh of relief when his shaking subsided and his eyes closed. Not a moment too soon, because his breathing had become so labored that his lips and cheeks were slowly turning blue. His grip loosened on her hands as his body slumped forward. Catching him against her breast, she couldn't hold back the action of stroking his hair. His breathing tapered out, and she could feel the sweat against his scalp dampening his black hair. Slowly he shook his head and moaned, and Rhonda realized that he must have lost consciousness at the end.

"Curly?" she ventured, and he leaned back, pale and tired and looking more than worse for wear.

"Sorry." Was all he could muster, and they sat there in silence for a moment before Rhonda stood and helped him to his feet. He wobbled a bit before leaning back to let the lockers support him. Clearing his throat, Curly brought Rhonda's attention back to him, as she had been stubbornly looking anywhere but at him.

"Listen, my love, you just head to class. I'm not feeling too well, so I'll just totter over to the nurse." He suggested, and she looked at him in surprise.

"Or I can help you to the nurse and then go to class. It's just gym, and you look like you can barely stand on your own two feet." She motioned to his subtle sway, and he smiled sheepishly.

"No, I insist you head to class. I don't want you to be late."

"Only the first bell has rung so far and the nurse is -" their bickering was cut off by the much irritating second warning bell, which caused Thad to smirk.

"The nurse is right around the corner. Go, I'll be fine." He assured, and she took a hesitant step backwards. After a few more similar steps while watching him, she turned quickly and scurried off towards the gym. Curly watched her go with a semi-sinking heart:

She didn't look back. Not once.

Heaving himself off the metal cabinets, he stood still for a moment before side punching a locker. Dammit, it was definitely a snowball's chance in hell for her to like him now. To her, not only was he crazy, but he also now has a whole bunch of fucked up problems none of them know about. And no doubt she'll tell everyone when they next convene.

_She didn't even ask how the rally went._ He moaned in his head. A few days ago he staged a rally to free all the animals in the zoo, or at least get them better conditions and care. That was it. No hidden agenda, no political motives to destroy America as the world knows it. Al-Qaeda wasn't a sponsor. Osama Bin Laden, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, and Kim Jong-il were not key speakers. In fact, the scariest members there were PETA.

He moaned again before walking over to the hallway phone designated for students so they didn't get in trouble for talking on their phones in school. Dialing his sister's number, Curly rested his forehead on the wall and hoped that she wasn't in class.

"City morgue, you stab 'em we slab 'em." Jolene's chipper voice came through the receiver, and Curly smiled at her image in the back of his eyelids.

"Hey Joe." He could hear her drop the phone and smirked.

"Thaddeus?! Shouldn't you be in class right now?" she shouted, and with the headache that was forming, he wished he had a less vocal sister.

"Yeah, about that . . . think you can come spring me out of jail? There's some stuff we need to talk about." He could almost hear the gears working in her head as she processed his request.

"You didn't get a girl pregnant, did you? I swear, Thaddeus, you need to learn to keep it in your -"

"This is serious Jolene." He cut her off, and for once she was oddly silent over the phone.

"I'll be right there." With that, the siblings hung up, and Curly rolled to his back and slid down the wall. Jolene knew some pretty good underground groups working towards changing the system; maybe she could introduce and help him get a foot in the door. After all, why should he let Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum torture him for nothing?

As soon as his butt made contact with the floor and his legs relax in front of him, Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe was asleep.

HA


	3. Carry That Weight

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Hey! Arnold. Or the Beatles. Or anything else referenced in this chapter. The end.**_

HA

"Curly, what happened to you?" Jolene asked herself as she paced in front of her little brother's bedroom door. She had arrived at the school earlier in the day and found him passed out in the front of the building near the office, sending her into a state of near-panic. After waking him up and feeding Mrs. Blackwell a believable excuse about why she had to pull her brother from class, Jolene began the effort of getting him home.

She all but threw him into the passenger seat of Philmore, surprised as he fell into a half-sleeping dream like state, moaning out Tweedledee and Tweedledum every so often. Those were characters from his favorite book growing up, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass_, but what had brought him back to it? He only awoke from his ramblings when she pulled up in front of the house, stumbling into the house and through the bedroom door like a drunkard. And that's where she's been for the past twenty minutes, pacing and listening.

She was so enwrapped within her own thoughts that she didn't even heard Ted as he opened the door with a heave. One hand held his papers and med books, the other cradled the box of three orders of Chinese food that could serve at least six.

"You look like shit." his voice made her jump, and he smirked as she turned to face him angrily.

"Dammit Ted!" When she issued no addition threat, he looked at her sharply, nearly dropping the food on the counter. The fear in her eyes made his stomach clench.

"Jolene, honey what's the matter?" she fell towards him, and he cradled her just as gently as the sweet and sour chicken. She didn't cry, but he could feel her shaking with distress.

"It's Curly. I don't know what's wrong with him. He disappears for three days, then out of the blue I get a call from him at school saying I need to pick him up. When I get there, he's asleep; Ted, he was just passed out against the wall. He was sweaty had bags under his eyes. He kept passing out in Philmore, too, and I could hear him mumbling something like Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Ted, I'm worried."

All while she unloaded this into Ted's arms, Curly's door slowly opened, revealing her much disheveled little brother. He watched them for a moment or two, before deciding an angry Jolene was better then a fretting Jolene.

"Jolene, I need a favor." Stifling a gasp, she spun on her heel to watch him wide-eyed. She and Ted remained silent, waiting for him to make his request.

"I need you to hook me up with your underground friends."

And just like that, the still moment was released.

"No! NO! Curly, you have no idea what that's asking! I won't do it!" Jolene all but shouted at him as she stormed out of Ted's arms and into the kitchen, aggressively unpacking the China Gorge take-out.

"Jolene, I need this; I can't explain why but I do need it." Curly tried to remain calm, but with his sister's hostility on the subject, it was hard to stay level-headed.

"Why? Why would you ask me to do that? Do you even know what they do? There's a reason why I left them to become a Free Mason, you know. I've seen them do some really fucked up shit, and I can't let you join that. Why would you even want to?" she was on the verge of collapse, but Curly knew he had to tell her. He had to tell someone or else he might just lose his mind. Was it too late to get back fretting Jolene?

"Because of my own reasons. Jesus Jolene, something traumatic happened to me and I just need you to agree to help me out with this, please." He whined, and he could see his sister's resolve strengthening.

"But why? Why would you put yourself in with radicals?" her voice was hard, and Curly felt himself snap.

"Because the government deserves a little pay back after what it did to me!" he shouted, not denying the small amount of satisfaction that came with the looks of surprise and shock crossing their faces, but it disappeared with the loss of adrenaline. "A couple of lackeys cornered me three days ago, torturing me because they figured I had a hand in some terrorist plot. They fucked me up, Jolene, they really fucked me up. Not too much physically, because I'm too smart for that. But shit, Jolene, they injected me with something, something and now I'm so _**fucked up**_."

At this point, Curly had broken down into hysterics, and in an instant Jolene was hugging him while Ted fell back onto the beanbag chair. She just held him while he finally let it all out, sobbing all the frustration and anger that had built up so quickly in the past few days.

"Alright, Thaddeus, you win. When you feel up to it we'll go." she finally whispered, and Ted looked up at her sullenly. He bore the same scars, carried the same weight she did from that group, but if Curly needed to do this, then Curly needed to do this.

Slowly, Curly calmed down, and looked up at his sister, who studied his pale cheeks and tired eyes. Slowly she kissed his temple, hugging him closer to her soul, trying to take away the pain.

"What did they do to my little brother?" she asked no one really, but from her collar bone Curly answered her.

"I think they injected him with liquid schizophrenia." He moaned, in instantly realized that was the wrong statement when his name fell brokenly from her lips.

"I'm gonna go hope in the shower and then we can go, ok?" Quickly disentangling himself from his sister, Curly all but ran to the bathroom, leaving Jolene to fall into Ted's arms. A minute later they heard the water run, but in their minds all they heard was silence.

Curly, meanwhile, was trying to sooth his mind with the hot water as he sat in the spray of the shower. His legs were pulled up to his chest, and all he focused on was how the water ran over him. How each individual water droplet carved its own path down his naked flesh.

He felt better, now that his sister and Ted new. Relieved, lighter. And they believed him, so at least he had two people on his side, but that still left a bunch of questions from a lot of people.

Rhonda.

Rhonda would either be running her beautiful mouth off to their friends about his little episode, or well, running her beautiful mouth off to their friends about his little episode. He loved her more than air, but that didn't change the fact that she was probably voicing her concerns at that very moment in time. He wanted her to love him, but now that he's made this choice, there was no way it could ever work out.

Suddenly he could feel the painful tingling moving up his legs, almost like the unexpected muscle spasm. He felt it as he slithered its way up his body before engulfing his head in noise and lights and screams and bangs and pain. Too much pain.

*

"Guys, this is serious. I think something's up with Curly. He had this seizure-like thing in the hallway, and now he's not at school anymore." Rhonda explained as the group met up at the locker she shared with Nadine. Really the majority looked disbelieving or uncaring, even Arnold.

"You know Rhonda, Curly has been known to disappear for short stints; maybe he's out with his sister rallying the troops? I'm sure he'll be back in school tomorrow." He assuaged her fears, but Rhonda really wasn't buying it.

"I just know something's up." She mumbled under her breath as they all made their way down the hall and towards the parking lot.

*

The drive was silent, Jolene behind the wheel while Curly was on the end, Ted in the middle eating his Kung Poa Chicken and fumbling with chop sticks. Jolene would growl at him every time he nearly dropped some, before finally exploding on him.

"Ted!"

"What! This is good KPC!" he breathed out with a flame. Curly just laughed, which Jolene was more than happy to hear. As the laughter died away, Ted cracked open his fortune cookie, and stared at it for a few moments.

"Hey Joe? You think my boss would understand it if I said I had to take two weeks off because my fortune cookie told me traveling south would bring me unexpected happiness?" Jolene just slowly looked at him, before coming to a stop in front of an older looking building.

"Ask me when you get tickets to Hawaii. Come on, Thaddeus, we're here." She announced, and Curly gulped before following her out of Philmore and into the parking lot. Three men were waiting for them, and he watched as Jolene and Ted stiffly shook their hands before motioning to him.

"Guys, this is my little brother, Thaddeus. He's anxious to join the Cause; we have an appointment with The Caterpillar." She informed, and they nodded Curly looked at them strangely as they led the way through a side door and down several corridors.

"The Caterpillar?" he asked Jolene, and she nodded, a small smirk making it's way across her lips against her better judgment.

"Yeah. What, you're not the only one who read _Alice in Wonderland_ as a kid, you know." He only had time for a brief nod before a disembodied voice announced both The Caterpillar and their presence, and they were shown into a dimly lit room. Cigarette smoke wafted towards the ceiling, only to dissipate at the end of the journey.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't The Walrus and the Carpenter. Long time, no see." A voice from behind a high back chair breathed out slowly, and Curly could feel the two surrounding him stiffen twice: once at the code names, and again when the figure in the chair turned to face them.

HA


	4. A Day In The Life

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hey! Arnold, the Beatles, or Alice in Wonderland. Careful reading this: it's about to get heavy.**_

HA

The man was really nothing special, _really_. Mid forties, chubby but not fat, a bit of facial hair but not enough to look ruggedly handsome. He had a smidgen of nicotine staining his teeth a light yellow, yet it was only noticeable if one really looked. Which, admittedly, Curly did.

The Caterpillar seemed to be doing the same one-over of the young man, for after a moment of silence he laughed darkly.

"Ah, the younger Gammelthorpe. I see the family resemblance even now." He breathed out, snakes of smoke slithering out from between his teeth. Curly had to hold back a shudder as Jolene stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah well, Thaddeus here wants to join up. Think you can make room?" Caterpillar's eyes slowly shifted from Jolene, to Ted, to finally rest on Curly. His lips curled into a twisted smile as slowly as his eyes moved and the smoke escaped him.

"I'll see what I can do. Thank you Carpenter, Walrus, we will take over from here; you are free to return to your little _club_." The way he dismissed them, grounding out club with mock sincerity, made Jolene turn her brother to face her.

"It's not too late to change your mind, Curly." She told him, and he just smiled, shaking his head.

"It's ok, Joe, I need this." She frowned, but nodded and kissed his forehead before taking Ted's hand and exiting the room. It was silent for a few moments, before Caterpillar stood, stamping out his cigarette in order to light a new one.

"Well, shall we take a tour?" he offered, and Curly could only nod dumbly as he follow his new commander out a side door and down another hallway. Four rooms down, he opened a worn-looking door revealing an outrageously curly-haired woman surround by computer monitors.

"This is the Duchess; Duchess, this Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, our newest recruit." He introduced, and Curly nodded to the back of her head. She didn't bother to turn around; only lifted a brief hand before returning to her vigorous typing.

"Hey." Was all she said, and Curly waited a few more moments for something to happen, only to be led back out the way they came by his new leader.

"Duchess is our eyes and ears everywhere operatives can't go. Our fly on the all, so to speak. She's a bit abrasive, but that's just her nature. Oh, and don't try to make a pass, she's a lesbian – found that out the hard way. That woman has a mean right hook." Caterpillar laughed then, good-naturedly and in a way that nearly made Curly forget the uneasy feeling he gave the young man not three minutes prior.

The pair passed through an entryway kiddy-corner to the door they left, entered a room that made Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe more uncomfortable than he ever felt before.

There were two men and a woman sitting at a table, working on small mechanical devices that look suspicious. No one had to say it, everyone knew what they were making in the back of their minds. Equipment that can cause an untold amount of pain, and suffering, and fear. And heartache, more heartache than Curly could imagine.

They were making bombs.

"_Whoa_, **whoa**, _**whoa**_, what are these?" stopping dead in his tracks, Curly couldn't deny the fact that he felt like a caged zoo animal with the looks they were giving him.

"My young Gammelthorpe, these are exactly what you think they are. How else are you to fight a revolution without bloodshed?" Caterpillar scoffed, the blonde woman to his left nodded her head enthusiastically although she didn't look away from her task.

"Bloodshed? Are you kidding me? I can't commit bloodshed, I'm a pacifist. Isn't there any other way?"

One of the other men flanking Caterpillar looked up, his twenty-something face hosting what appeared to be a small animal, maybe a squirrel.

"No one listens if no one's hurt." Was his simple statement, and forced Curly to think for a moment.

"And just what are you trying to get heard?" he asked quietly, and watched as Caterpillar smiled almost cruelly while taking a languid drag from his half-burnt cigarette.

"Our message of corruption in the government. Corruption in the economy. Corruption in the health industry. We have a tainted society, lacking chaos and thought, just accepting what we are fed like sheep. This needs to stop. We intend to scare people awake. Are you with us?" he finished, giving Curly a moment to think about it.

"Well, I'll have to tell you -" his words were cut off with a choked gasp as he fell to the ground, his body shaking with violent tremors. The woman rushed to his side, holding his head still while he shook with the onslaught of symptoms she found strangely similar to LSD or Acid.

His mind was engulfed with fire, bright lights and loud noises. Vaguely, he realized that the virus Tweedledee and Tweedledum had injected him with was changing. He could hear that blonde woman speaking calmly to Caterpillar, but her voice was fading in and out. Through all the chaos and pain that surrounded his head and spread throughout his bloodstream, a sound emerged, growing louder and louder.

_You little freak! Geek! Crazy! Freak! Crazy! _

It was Rhonda's voice, manipulating his emotions into pain and anger. Her voice calling him a freak, crazy, in all the years they've known each other and he's loved her. Her voice tearing him down, breaking him, terrorizing and tormenting his every waking and subconscious moment – it was too much for his young mind.

When he finally came around, he was staring into the face of his new commander, the chipper and slightly unnerving blonde and the man with the kitten on his face. The final man, a clean cut black kid in his late teens, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and continued with his work.

"Welcome back crazy. I see the government caught you, too. You'll fit in just fine with us." The blonde laughed, turning it light and definitely girlish when Curly gave her a befuddled look. Lifting up her shirt, Curly nearly swallowed his tongue when he found that not only was her torso covered in criss-crossing scars, but her left breast was no more.

"They also took March's hearing," she pointed to the clean cut young man, "and Humpty's short term memory." Here she thumbed the guy with a small fluffy puppy eating his chin. She seemed to be able to read Curly's mind, for she lowered her shirt in order to better address him.

"March was participating in a sit-in in the Deep South; Humpty was housing illegal aliens in his home near the Canadian border; and I was caught burning my bra at a feminist movement rally. You see kid, the world, especially the United States, is not as open and forgiving as it likes to pretend. I'm the Cheshire Cat, by the way." She ended her motivational speech with a smile and a handshake, before turning back to tighten screws on her own explosive.

Curly just sat on the floor, panting, sweaty, smelling of urine, watching Caterpillar as the older man watched him. His vision faded in and out as he swallowed painfully to wet his dry throat before attempting to speak.

"Where do we start?" was all he managed to croak out as Caterpillar smiled cruelly and held out his hand.

"We bomb Wall Street tomorrow. Welcome to the Resistance, Mad Hatter."

*

Rhonda awoke with a bad feeling in her stomach, a feeling which only grew worse as the day continued on. After breakfast with Mother and Father, in which she wished Father a good day at the office and Mother good luck with her tennis serve, she decided to take Giles and the limo on a little trip to Hillwood's Downtown Shopping District. It was moderately pleasant, being a Saturday and crowded with less-privileged common folk trying to get their shopping done for whatever reason. But that feeling stayed with her, a weight around her neck making her ache.

Around three thirty, Giles decided that it would probably be better for them to head home, the sky was darkening and the air was thick was the prospect of rain. She agreed, not wanting to get her new Armani faux suit wet.

"Ms. Lloyd, it looks as though there's been an accident up ahead; we're being detoured uptown by the Financial District." Giles called from the behind the wheel, following the neon orange signs directing traffic away from a nasty head-on collision involving a semi and a mini cooper.

"Alright, that's fine by me as long as I can get home in time for coffee with Nadine. We'll be going over next Saturday's party invite list and I simply _cannot_ be late." She insisted, to which her manservant mutter a quick yes ma'am before becoming silent.

Suddenly a loud bang sounded from up ahead of them, almost as if someone slammed a heavy wooden door, and that weight around Rhonda's neck became that much larger.

"Giles, what was that?" she asked cautiously, leaning forward to peer out the windshield.

"I'm not sure Ms., but I suggest you sit back and buckle yourself in. I can see smoke coming from one of the buildings up ahead." He warned, slowing down as Rhonda all but threw herself into her seat and fastened her seat belt. Rain started to fall in heavy pellets as loud pops tore through the air, causing the young raven haired woman to begin knotting the bottom of her shirt in anxiety.

Police cars ripped past them in order to reach the chaos, even more pops which Rhonda soon realized was gunfire ringing in the streets, mixing with screams. People started running past, and beyond the tinted windows she could see their absolute fear. Giles was quickly looking for the fastest route to escape the madness and seek safety. And Rhonda was all for that, until she saw _him _through the windshield.

He was soaked, his hair matted to his forehead by the rain. His glasses had a crack in them, and he had a look of seriousness she had never seen him wear before, but it was without a doubt him. Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe.

His eyes were trained ahead of him as he turned the knob of an object in his hands, before tossing it into a window of the building in front of him and turning to crouch. A few seconds later an explosion ripped through the lower level of the multi-story office building, and Curly got up to pull another one out.

Slowly, as if in a trance, she undid her seat belt and opened the car door, ignoring the protests of Giles. She calmly walked a few steps towards him, letting the rain soak her as she watched the young man she had grown up with commit open acts of terrorism.

"Curly!" the name tore from her throat before she knew what she was doing, and she was amazed at how fast his head moved in her direction. His face swiftly changed from stoic to confused and worried in less than a second.

"Rhonda? What are you doing here?"

At least, that was what she figured he was about to say. In reality, he only uttered two words before a member of the riot police took aim and fired three times, hitting Curly in both shoulders and in the left leg, before he turned to fire upon more rioters. As soon as she saw his posture shift in sync with the gunfire, Rhonda could feel the weight transform into a hot and heavy stone in the middle of her stomach.

"Curly!" she shouted, charging towards his fallen body. Giles was somehow suddenly next to her, trying to pull her back into the limo.

"Giles! Help me get him to the limo! Quick!" she pleaded, and the old man was surprised to see tears mingle with rain on her ashen face. He nodded, and with the world falling down all around them, the two managed to get him into the back seat, where Rhonda sat with him, trying to keep pressure on his wounds as Giles took them back the Lloyd Manor.

With the sounds of chaos fading behind them, Rhonda was able to collect herself, smoothing the hair away from Curly's face as she chanted to herself _in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the –_

"Ms? We're here." Giles' deep voice snapped her out of her trance, and she almost cried at the look of comfort he was trying to give her.

"Right, of course. Come on, help me get him upstairs to my room." Together, they carried the unconscious young man up the marble staircase, Giles holding his torso while Rhonda hauled his feet. They set him down in the bathtub of her bathroom, where the blood would be able to wash out better.

"Giles, try and get him cleaned up while I make a few phone calls." She ordered before rushing out of the bathroom, the sight of Curly's blood slowly coating the porcelain was making her dizzy. Taking a few more cleansing deep breaths, she first dialed the family physician, telling him only that they needed immediate medical attention. She then called Nadine, telling her that something suddenly and unexpectedly came up, and that she had to cancel their coffee date. Her friend accepted the idea of changing the date, although she didn't sound thoroughly convinced when they both hung up.

By the time she finished with Nadine, the doorbell rang, saving Rhonda from having to go into the bathroom and breakdown at the sight of Curly. She wasn't sure why she felt so uneasy about the whole situation, but decided to attribute it to the fact that she had never seen anyone shot before. Or in person anyway.

"Ms Lloyd? I came as fast as I could. What's happened? Are you alright?" Dr. Stewart, the only man in the medical field her parents trusted, was through the door and checking her over as soon as she opened it.

"Dr. Stewart, I'm fine, the call wasn't for me. There's a man upstairs . . . please, he needs your help." She insisted, taking his hand and all but running upstairs and into the bathroom. When she found a naked Curly on the floor by a damp and bloody Giles and a pile of wet clothes, she felt heat rise to her face. Dr. Stewart immediately did a once over of Curly's wounds and turned to Rhonda. Knowing he was going to issue her a command, she couldn't help but feel relief at escaping the heaviness of the room.

"Rhonda, I need you to get me a bowl, tweezers, rubbing alcohol and a sewing kit if you have one." She couldn't be sure if anyone had a sewing kit, but her mother did have a pair of tweezers, they did have peroxide, and they certainly had a bowl. When she returned from her errand, she found that Giles had collected the needle and thread, and the two men were holding down Curly, who was in the process of waking up in extreme pain.

Flying to their aide, Rhonda held his head as they turn over his thrashing body so the doctor could pry out the bullets in his shoulders. He flayed and moaned in partial awareness as the doctor dug into his shoulder and foreign hands gripped his flesh.

"_Shh, Curly, please hold on. Please be alright. Shh._" Rhonda tried to calm him, taking hold of his hands and threading their fingers as she whispered near his ear. He relaxed some, but whipped around violently again as someone poured the alcohol on his bleeding wounds. Suddenly, he went limp and Rhonda looked to her elders with fear and worry, tears in her eyes threatening to spill.

"Don't worry, he's only passed out from the pain. Best thing for him I think – I'd rather him be unconscious when I sew up him up."

They continued the rest of the work in silence, as Rhonda caressed his face and the men tried to prevent infection.

*

The first thing he noticed was that it was quiet. There were no screams, no explosions, and no gunfire. Only the soft groaning and creaking of a living house. The next thing he noticed was that there was pain everywhere other than his head – but it was mostly centered around his shoulders and left leg. The third, was that he was naked and in was felt like the sheets of heaven. Slowly and with all the willpower he could muster, Curly opened his eyes look at the textured white ceiling of whatever room he was in.

At first he thought he had in fact died, but then he remembered that he was in pain, and unless god had a sick sense of humor, there would be no pain in heaven. Absorbing the softness of the sheets surrounding him, he decided this was as good a time as any to get up and investigate where in the hell he was.

Not bothering to cover up his modesty, Curly slowly limped towards a large window, looking out over a vast hillside and trees. The rain had stopped and the clouds had vanished, revealing a red orange sunset. He stood, admiring the view for who knew how long before a figure appeared in the doorway. His eyes slowly met hers, and though he was embarrassed, he didn't bother to hide himself.

"It was touch and go for a while, but Dr. Stewart said you should make a full recovery. In case you're wondering." She said with a smile, and he tried to return in, but as he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, it came out more as a hurting smirk.

"What were you doing there, Rhonda?" he asked quietly, and her smile faded.

"There was a car accident, and we were detoured." Was all she said, and almost cried at how his posture slumped with the knowledge.

"You could have gotten killed. You shouldn't have been there, you weren't suppose to be there." He grieved, and Rhonda made her way over to him, trying to ignore the look of his white back and rounded ass, and how that stone in her stomach melted away into electricity, which fell even lower. Caressing his face again, she bit her lip as he moaned quietly at the action.

"Curly, what happened to you? What were you doing there?" she asked quietly, and he stood before her, gripping her hands as she gently cupped his face.

"Can I tell you later?" he offered, and somewhere in the universe, time froze. Suddenly it was just them and the very real understanding of violence and death. That second, that brief pause seemed to last forever, until one of them leaned forward just that much.

And the moment was shattered.

A thousand and one small fragments blew past them as Curly plundered her mouth with the vigor she never knew he had. She moved against him in such a way that he felt the need to cry about everything, about nothing, to cry just for the sake of crying. His hand caressed her cheek as she gripped his scalp fiercely, pulling him towards her in both a show of need and dominance.

And somewhere, in the back of his mind, Curly vaguely thought about someday thanking Tweedledee and Tweedledum for hitting that first domino that started this cluster fuck.

Maybe.

HA


	5. I Want You, She's So Heavy

_**Disclaimer: Hey! Arnold and the Beatles do not belong to me. Now this chapter has a teeny tiny bit of smut, but just a little.**_

HA

He pulled away from her sharply, a gasp escaping his throat. Rhonda gasped as well when she felt something wet touch her hand; something wet and warm. Shifting her hand away from his shoulder, she was sickened to find Curly's deep, crimson red blood coating her hand. Quickly reaching behind him, he clamped a firm hand over his now slightly opened and stinging wound, grunting with the pressure he was using to stop the blood flow.

Turning him around, Rhonda lifted his hand away from his stitches, checking to make sure none needed replacing. As she sighed with relief at seeing that although they had been torn, they wouldn't need fixing, Curly chuckled darkly.

"Doesn't it figure: I finally get you into my arms, and _I'm_ the one that pulls away first." Something about the way he said that, darker than his usual crazy humor, made Rhonda feel uncomfortable. As if in slow motion, she walked around him to really look at him, and for the second time gasped.

His eyes were puffy and had dark rings under them, as if he hadn't had a decent amount of sleep in at least a week. His skin was terribly pale, and while she recognized that could be from the blood loss, there was more to it than that. And his eyes, those deep brown orbs that she always ignored because they were hidden behind glasses – his eyes were by far his worst attribute.

His eyes held demons even she couldn't comprehend.

"Curly, please. Tell me what happened." She heard herself whispering, and he was the one who broke the connection first.

"Honestly, I, I'm not really sure what happened. One minute I'm riding the high off my somewhat successful zoo rally, and the next I'm in a dark room being tortured by two government officials, Tweedledee and Tweedledum." He finally admitted, and Rhonda sucked in air so sharply it actually hurt. She wanted to say something comforting, but couldn't find the words. That was alright by him, though, because he just kept right on talking.

"They kept me for, I don't know, three days I think. After a pretty good beating, Tweedledee – the real bastard of the two – injected me with a mind-altering drug. Now that I think about it, I think they made some base altercations to d-lysergic acid diethylamide," the blank look she gave him reminded Curly that she was never a scientific mind, "LSD." She nodded, but otherwise remained silent.

"Ever since then, I've been having periodical episodes where I go into this paralyzed, epileptic state and suffer severe hallucinations. They usually last a few minutes, and then I lose consciousness. The real bitch of it is that they come and go unexpectedly." He finished, and instantly regretted telling her. He face looked void of emotion, just staring off into a space just beyond his head.

"Was that what happened to you in the hallway?" She asked suddenly, moving her eyes to his, although still blank. He nodded, not daring to say a word. Almost immediately her face scrunched up in what appeared to be pain, before she lunged at him, sobbing as she wrapped her lips around his. No hesitation was found in his movements as he kissed her back, slow and sensuously, in no way as rushed as their previous kiss was. When he moaned, she pulled away and gazed at his drooping eyelids.

"Come on, Thaddeus, you need rest." She ordered, and he smiled tiredly as he let her lead him back to the bed, tucking him in with care.

"It's funny, I don't think you've ever called me by my name." he laughed weakly, and she kissed his lips softly, before moving up to his temple, and when she pulled away fully, he was asleep. With a sigh, she brushed some hair away from his face and left the room, closing to door gently.

Giles and Dr. Stewart were in the kitchen, drinking coffee in silence. Upon her entrance, they both looked up to watch her, but neither one said a word.

"He woke up, but he's asleep now." She answered their silent question, and both men nodded while Giles fixed her a cup of terribly sweet coffee, she held it close to her, inhaling it's scent and absorbing it's warmth but not drinking it.

"Rhonda." Dr. Stewart said suddenly, and she looked towards him slowly, uncertainty in her eyes.

"I don't expect you to tell me just what happened to that young man, and though I have a suspicion about how he got those bullet wounds, I think it's best if I don't know. Giles and I have decided that we will leave it to you to tell your parents about this, at your discretion, of course." She nodded, and returned her gaze to her coffee.

"You realize that by removing myself from this, I can't give a professional opinion about anything wrong with him, nor what to do about your parents. But as a family friend, I would suggest if you _did_ have a bloody and broken revolutionist upstairs sleeping in your bed, I wouldn't tell your parents – if I were you. Hypothetically speaking, of course." The doctor finished, and Rhonda turned to look at him sharply, but his gaze was directed at Giles, as if he hadn't spoken to her at all.

"Giles, the coffee was excellent as always. It's always refreshing to stop by an old friend's house without the need to save someone's life looming over head. Well, it was wonderful to see you both again, but I'm afraid I have to get back to work, patients to heal, you know." And with that, he stood and excused himself from the house and its dreary inhabitants. After a few moments of vocal silence, in which Giles took the untouched mug of coffee from where Dr. Stewart was just seated and washed it out, Rhonda stood.

"I'm going to go watch over Thaddeus." She informed him, leaving her steaming mug on the counter, also untouched.

*

As she entered the room, Rhonda was surprised to find Curly thrashing beneath the covers, his eyes kept tightly closed. Rushing to his side, she called his name and he responded by opening his eyes immediately, seeking her out with fear. She took hold of his hands, and he gripped her fiercely. She winced in pain as she watched the crescent shapes his nails made on her palms grew steadily darker, until soon delicate lines of blood flowed down her arms. At seeing this, Curly moaned in what almost sounded like disgust, before looking away as his tremors came to a violent conclusion.

Shuddering in post-episodic fear, he panted harshly while slowly opening his eyes to look at Rhonda. Her own orbs were filled with sorrow, and Curly could feel his self-hatred rising swiftly.

"I'm sorry, Rhonda." Was all he could manage as he pulled her palms to his lips, kissing the small cuts weakly. Rhonda shuddered in pleasure at the feeling, watching in sick fascination as he subconsciously licked her blood from his lips.

"Why . . ?" Was her delayed reply to his statement, and he closed his eyes while letting go of her hands.

"I'm all fucked up, and now your burden. You shouldn't have brought me here, I repulse even myself." He whispered, and Rhonda couldn't hold in her gasp. Before she could stop him, he kept going on his soft tirade.

"I just, I just want you, I want you so bad. But I can't do shit about it because you should have nothing to do with me. I love you, I want you, and you have to stay away for your own -" She finally cut him off with her lips, delving deeply into his soul with her mouth as they both moaned at the sensation.

"I don't know if I love you, but I do know I care for you. I care for you enough to risk my own safety to bring you here, to save you. And I know this probably sounds wrong of me, especially of me, but I want you so, _so bad_ right now that I almost can't stand it. I don't know if I love you, but I do care." She finished even as she was wiggling out of her skirt and panties, pulling off her shirt as she moved the covers off of him. Straddling his waist, she kissed his neck and chest as he panted at the glorious sensations over taking him.

"Rhonda, wait. I don't – I don't want to force you." Curly panted out, and Rhonda laughed as she came back and kissed his lips softly.

"Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe, even in top physical condition you wouldn't be able to force me to do anything. Besides, if anything _**I'm**_ the one taking advantage of _**you**_." she smirked, unclasping her bra and laughing again as he reached slowly over to her nightstand to grab his cracked glasses for a better look.

"Oh . . ." he was able to manage as he gently took hold of a breast, her moan making him instantly hard. Rhonda, meanwhile, had lowered herself onto him with a bit of force, and when she felt her virginity break away, both teens gasped. She began instantly rocking her hips back and forth, lifting herself up partly and bringing herself down. All her actions were slow, quiet, and they helped keep each other silent with kisses. Remembering his wounds, Rhonda vowed that she would do all the work, but secretly she also really loved the dominance being on top gave her. His moans flowed freely and unbridled into her mouth, and she picked up speed at feeling the erotic tingling winding its way from all corners of her body towards the base of her spine.

It was over too quickly, for both of them. As they quivered with post-coital shivers, Curly's deep laugh broke the silence, and Rhonda soon joined him. They weren't quite sure just why they were laughing, but admittedly it felt good. Good to break the tension. Good to try and forget everything up until that moment in time. Good to just feel good.

A soft knock suddenly came at the door, and though Rhonda was both clueless and worried, Curly had a sneaky suspicion that Giles knew what lay beyond the door.

"Ms Lloyd, there are two men at the door who wish to speak to you about what you saw today." He said in a clear voice, and then quietly he added, "I think they are from the government." Curly's eyes snapped open as his mind immediately envisioned Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Feeling him stiffen beneath her, Rhonda suddenly became on edge.

"Tell them I'll be down in just a minute." She called, and Giles' heavy footsteps let her know that he intended to do just that. With speed that surprised even her, Rhonda was up and pulling on her clothes.

"Curly, come on, we're going to hide you in my closet." She told him, and had to stifle her laugh when he nodded and headed towards her wardrobe room, his legs still wobbly from both the wound and the sex. He stopped and turned to her suddenly, colliding with her and falling onto the floor, Rhonda on top of him.

"But won't that be the first place they look?" he asked and she smiled, kissing his nose.

"Yes, but they probably don't have a search warrant, which means that while they can look around, they technically can't do a thorough search. That would include my closet. They can only take things at face value." Her knowing smirk made him want to attack her lips again, but multiple heavy footsteps bounding up the steps stopped him. They both shot up with a rush and shoving Curly in her closet. Giving him one last kiss, she shut the door and had just made it to the entrance to the bedroom when it opened of its own accord.

There stood two men, a large one and a lanky one, and she had a gripping feeling that these two were Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Giles was behind them, looking angry but also relieved that he couldn't immediately spot Curly.

"Just _**what**_ do you two think you're doing?" Rhonda snapped, moving out of the way as the two men pushed into her room.

"We have reason to believe you are harboring a terrorist and fugitive. Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe." The skinny one said stoically, and Rhonda felt chills run up and down her spin.

"Gammelthorpe? Why on earth would I be _harboring_ that crazy little freak? And just what did he do that makes him a terrorist?" she growled, watching them warily as they moved about her room, inspecting everything closely.

"I'm afraid that's classified. And we _know_ you're hiding him – we have witnesses claiming to have seen you and your man servant help him into your limo after he was shot at the Financial District bombing. Don't play dumb with us." Rhonda quickly realized that the man doing all the talking must have been Tweedledee. Curly was right, he really was a bastard; there was no way this guy was human. She stepped in front of Tweedledum as he made a move for her closet, her arms crossed and an angry scowl on her face.

"I hope you two have a search warrant, because if not I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She insisted, and Tweedledee smirked.

"Come on sweetheart, you know we don't need a warrant."

"Oh yes you do. My father is a lawyer. I'll take your answer as a no, and this as harassment. If you don't leave my property immediately, I'll have my father bring up charges of the highest caliber attainable, and not even your status in the government will be able to save your ass." She threatened, and both men laughed.

"Alright, you win for now. But know this, next time we come here, we'll bring more than just a warrant. I hope you understand the severity of what you've just done." Tweedledee shot back, before motioning his companion out the door, Giles following them like the protective surrogate parent he was. As soon as they were out of earshot, Curly burst from the closet, his face red with anger.

"That's it, this has got to end." He announced to no one but himself, but Rhonda grabbed his wrist to stop him from charging from her room butt naked.

"Curly, wait. What are you doing?" she questioned, worry lacing itself in her voice as Curly turned to face her.

"Just by being here I've put you in danger. You don't know those two like I do – the next time they come here, they'll have bogus chargers of how you're in league with me, and cart you off to do what they did to me. Who knows, they may do worse and I can't let that happen." He placed a gentle kiss to her temple, and pulled away to thank Giles who returned to with his now cleaned and dried clothes.

"But Curly, that won't happen, my dad's a lawyer, remember?" she smiled, although it was a bit forced, and watched as Thad pulled up his jeans and boxers with one swift movement.

"That doesn't matter, Rhonda. By the time your dad takes care of everything, it'll be too late and you'll already be injected and no better off than me. No, I've got to take care of this now." Pulling his shirt over his head, Curly charged down the steps and towards the front door, only to be stopped once more by Rhonda's voice.

"Curly . . ." twisting his body smoothly, he faced her and tried to look more confident than he really felt.

"I – be careful."

He nodded, and smiled with crooked charm even though inside he was quivering. Instead of assuaging her fears by saying how he would be fine and for her not to worry, he could only think of one thing to say.

"I love you."

And with that he was out the door, leaving Rhonda to collapse on the marble stair and cry into her hands.

HA


	6. Helter Skelter

_**Disclaimer: I really don't own anything except the concept. Hey! Arnold, Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, and certain quotes which are in italics (and for the most part not the other end of a phone conversation) are property and the brainchildren of Craig Bartlett, Lewis Carroll, Aldous Huxley, and Edgar Alan Poe, respectfully. Now if you would be so kind as to Read, Review, and Spread the Word, it would be much appreciated.**_

HA

It was as if that one bomb destroyed the whole world.

*

He was a man on a mission, that was painfully obvious as he practically stormed down the street, leaving confused and annoyed bystanders in his wake. Pulling out his cell phone, Curly dialed the contact number he had committed to memory so he could reach The Caterpillar.

"_Today is the fourth_." A distinctly female and unfamiliar voice entered his ear, but he was still too angry to even smile.

"My watch is two days wrong." He heard a small click, and knew that they were jamming anyone who might try to pick up the conversation.

"_Through the Looking Glass to the White King's Palace you must go_." Two clicks later the connection was dropped, along with his stomach. The White King's Palace? They were going to attack the capital building? That was moving a little fast, wasn't it? And wasn't that where –

Where Rhonda's father worked.

He was quite a few blocks from her house by now, and he wouldn't be able to double back and still make it on time. But the cleaners was just two streets down, right on the way. Picking up his pace, Curly winced every time his left foot made harsh contact with the concrete, but did his best to ignore it.

Spotting the sign that read _Gammelthorpe Cleaning_, and Philmore parked beneath it, Curly couldn't help but groan. If Jolene and Ted are there, it was unlikely he could get everything taken care of without them knowing. Once Jolene found out that he was going to help blow up the capital building, she would certainly rip him a new one.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he decided to go ahead and enter their business, attempting to smile as his sister and her boyfriend both looked up from the laundry they were sorting. Noticing his appearance, Jolene fully righted herself and eyed him skeptically.

"You look like shit."

Both men went wide-eyed with her statement, but brushed it away as her nerves talking for her. Curly motioned it away as he moved towards the client contact information ledge at the front desk.

"Thanks, it's good to see you alive too." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and she spun on her heel to face him angrily as he flipped through the pages before finding the phone number for the Lloyd family. Naturally they would be clients – the Gammelthorpes were only _the_ best dry cleaners in the business.

"You were at the FD bombings?! Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe I swear to -" she erupted, only to be shushed by her younger and impertinent brother. The rings seemed to last forever as he waited on pins and needles for someone to pick up . . .


	7. One

*

One . . .

*


	8. Two

*

Two . . .

*


	9. Three

*

Three . . .

*


	10. Four

*

Four . . .

*


	11. Five

*

Five . . .

*


	12. Helter Skelter Part 2

_**Disclaimer: Defer to Helter Skelter part one for the full disclaimer. And just so you're aware, I wanted to emphasize how long it felt for Curly as he waited for someone to pick up.**_

HA

"_Hello?_" a confused Rhonda Wellington Lloyd answered the phone, and Curly let his head fall onto the counter as the sigh of relief tore from his lips. Jolene and Ted both noticed, and moved in closer so as to better hear the conversation.

"Rhonda, Rhonda listen to me, I need you to phone your dad and tell him to come home. Tell him something, anything, lie to him, just make sure that he _comes home_." He forced out, and Jolene could feel her heart constrict within her chest. Something wasn't right. All of this, it was, nothing was right.

"_Curly, what? Why?_" he could hear her gasp, and felt even worse.

"Just get him home, please Rhonda. I'm trying to fix this, but you need to get him home now." He almost shouted through the phone, and wanted to die when he could hear her start to break. He could almost see the tears working their way down her beautiful face, the uncontrollable sob-hiccups interrupting her speech, Giles approaching her trying to find out what was wrong . . .

"_Curly, what's -_"

"I love you Rhonda." He cut off, before hanging up to effectively end the conversation. He could only hope she would listen and succeed in getting her father home. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he failed.

The sound of Jolene clearing her throat forced his eyes to meet her, and he winced in anticipation of her wrath.

"Thaddeus, I know I'll just worry more if I force you to tell me what's going on, especially since I know what that damn group is capable of. So all I'm going say is this: stay safe, and stay alert. Trust no one, and I mean _no one_." She was so strong, even as the tears gathered in her eyes, always so strong. It's no wonder she was able to keep him sane after their parents died.

"Don't worry, I'm going to fix this." he assured them both, even though he really had no idea how he was going to accomplish it, let alone accomplish it _**and **_survive. As he moved around them, allowing the sound of the news form the TV in the corner mask his heavy footfalls, the soft voice of his sister made him pause.

"Why?" she asked quietly, and though he didn't turn to face them, he did give the answer that had been swirling in his mind.

"_I ate civilization. It poisoned me; I was defiled. And then, I ate my own wickedness_." And with that he was out the door, certain that if he stayed a moment longer he wouldn't be able to leave.

They were never sure how long they stood there, looking at nothing and hearing nothing, just standing there. The noise of the TV began to slowly weave in and around them, bringing them from the hypnotized state – to a report that made their blood run cold.

"_Breaking News: One of the terrorists in the bombings of the Financial District of Hillwood yesterday afternoon, which killed 30 and left dozens injured, has been identified. Thaddeus 'Curly' Gammelthorpe has been named by the government early this morning as one of the key figures in the attacks. He is considered arms and incredibly dangerous; anyone with any information contact the Hillwood City Police Department as soon as possible._"

Jolene's head shot up towards the screen, watching as a school photo of her brother was flashed across the city, maybe even the nation. Dread filled her as she and Ted both bolted for the door, throwing it open and nearly shattering the glass.

"CURLY!" she shouted, but it was too late. He had disappeared into the city and away from her warnings.

"_And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming . . ._" she whispered brokenly while taking Ted's hand in hers.

"_Quoth the Raven – Nevermore._" Was his reply, along with a reassuring squeeze of his hand. Curly was all alone now.

*

Curly forced his way towards the subway entrance, panic growing inside him with every step, even as he appeared calm and collect on the outside. Just how in the hell was he supposed to make everything better? By waving the magic wand he pick up at his grandmother's house in China three weeks ago? Why was he _**always**_ making promises that he couldn't keep?

A train barreled past him, stirring up papers and other random bits of debris. The strong smell of mingling urine, alcohol and cigarette smoke wafted around his nose, and his frustrated mind began to wonder why he had to go through the Looking Glass. And for that matter, why in the hell was it codenamed the Looking Glass in the first place? It was hardly what he would call a clean and glass like environment; it would make more sense to call it –

"Hey, Mad Hatter! What took you so long?" A tall, blonde woman called over to him, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the Cheshire Cat. She had an inconspicuous duffle bag draped over her shoulder, which looked suspicious to him, but considering there were at least a dozen or so people surrounding them now that carried the same thing . . .

"What are you doing here?" Curly asked as civilly as he could, but confusion is a hard thing to mask, especially for a Gammelthorpe.

"You and I are traveling this together, as we're better suited for the road. Humpty Dumpty and March Hare are almost always kept with Caterpillar on account of their governmental defects." She explained, leaving as much actual information out as possible, using codenames in case they were being watched. But before they could take one step towards the next train headed south, the pair was immediately surrounded by FBI agents and police men, their guns trained on them and all shouting at once. Something about getting down.

Having seen enough episodes of COPS to last him two lifetimes, Curly immediately got onto his knees with his hands behind his head. A quick glance at Cat let him know she was doing the same thing, even taking it a step further by putting her head to the ground and her wrists behind her back. The duffle bag was seized by unknown hands.

"Gammelthorpe, you're under arrest for the bombings at the Chase ® office building, the deaths of thirty three people and the willful and knowing acts of terrorism. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you . . ."

The voice faded out as he focused on Cat: she looked startled, but really not all that surprised. Confusion sank in even more as he was picked up and hauled to the awaiting police cruiser, wondering why he hadn't had an episode yet.

*

"Oh my . . . Arnold! Come in here, you need to see this!" Helga called from the living room the boarding house. It was movie night, and all the boarders plus the blonde were going to get together and watch Exodus on TCM (it was Helga's choice tonight and there was no way she was going to deny her major crush on Paul Newman). So imagine her surprise when the first thing she sees on the screen is a photo of Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe with the word TERRORIST plastered next to his name.

Arnold joined her, mouth agape as they turned up the volume and listened to this thirty-something nobody of an anchorwoman who didn't even _know_ him told the whole world how dangerous their friend was. As more and more of the boarders entered the living room to watch the small TV, all were silent. Well, all but one.

"Say Shortman, isn't that your little crazy friend?" Phil asked as he slowly ate away at the bowl of popcorn in his hands.

"I guess Rhonda was right, wasn't she?" Arnold leaned over to ask, and Helga nodded. Although she didn't say anything, and her boyfriend didn't catch the look of something that was unrecognizable but seemed that it shouldn't be there.

From surrounding buildings, the group in the living room of Sunset Arms boarding house could hear echoing cries of 'Oh My God' from voices they vaguely recognized as their friends, classmates, and neighbors. All thinking similar thoughts:

_Definitely not just freeing all the animals in the zoo anymore._

*

The door was thrown open violently, letting in a small bit of light to the otherwise pitch black room. Thad looked up through his good eye to see Tweedledum carting in a battered looking Cheshire Cat, Tweedledee not that far behind them. After tossing her on the floor, they both looked to the younger Gammelthorpe, ignoring the coughing coming from the wet blonde. It was obvious that they had been water-boarding her, but Curly tried not to think about that.

"Now, Crazy, how about you tell us where we can find the Caterpillar." Tweedledee asked calmly as Cat had finally caught her breath, only to start laughing.

"I don't know how or where to find him. The number I call always ends up with a woman." Curly answered mostly honestly. He _did_ in fact know where to find Caterpillar, and the number _was_ always answered by a woman.

"Now you see, that wasn't the answer we were looking for. But if you two insist on being so stubborn, I suppose we can just call him ourselves, now can't we?" Tweedledee taunted as he pulled out Curly's cell phone, flipping it open and someone maneuvering to the recent calls log.

"It would be the last number called, right?" he smirked, hitting a button and turning up the volume so the whole room could hear the call.

"_Hello?_" a female and distinctly recognized voice bounced of the walls, and Curly felt his blood run cold, his face going pale.

"HANG UP THE PHONE!" he shouted towards the mouth piece, not liking the smirk that engulfed Tweedledee's lips.

"_Curly?_"

"HANG UP THE – " his second shout was interrupted but the sadistic son of a bitch ending the call with a cruel smile.

"Whoops. I suppose that was the wrong number, huh? She sounded cute by the way, and worried. Who is she?" he goaded, all the while going through the contacts on the phone before finding what he deemed to be the right number. Curly was suddenly glad he was quick enough to not call Rhonda's name, and glad she didn't answer the phone by giving up names.

"Never mind, we don't really need to know, do we? Ah, here we are." He laughed at the look of muted anger on Curly's face, before nodding to Tweedledum, who moved to hold him by the shoulder. The bigger man squeezed it once for good measure, chuckling at the wince Curly let slip as he felt his wound reopen.

"_I am sorry Mad Hatter, but you must understand that you two were so desperate to find each other, there was not much else I could do. I do give my regards to Agents Morrisson and Black, but they understand that I can't let them find me. My apologies again. _" there was a click, signaling that the pre-recorded message had ended, and Tweedledee snapped the phone shut and tossed it at Curly's chest, before turning towards the still-laughing Cheshire Cat.

"And you, Cheshire Cat. Did you really think you could get away with it?"

He didn't say what 'it' was, didn't get a chance to. Her laughter only increased, and when he was about to ask her what was so funny, she opened her mouth to silence him.

"I'm not the Cheshire Cat." Was all she said, before Tweedledee let his anger get the better of him, and a loud pop bounced around the room. She fell to the floor, a small bullet hole just off center of her forehead. Curly could only watch her fall, eyes wide open and a cat-like smile on her lips.

"There is no antidote, is there?" he was finally able to ask, defeated as Tweedledum let go o his shoulder in order to take the corpse out of the room.

"My dear Mr. Gammelthorpe, there is only one antidote." Tweedledee smirked, taking the duffle bag from Tweedledum as the large man re-entered the room.

"You, are to take this bag to the Capital Building, leave it outside the door of Congressman John McGhee, his office is on the fourth floor. You are to stay with the package until we call. If you don't, I will personally hunt down that pretty voice that answered the call, and make her feel things terrible in more ways than one. Do you understand." It wasn't a question. Curly nodded slowly, dabbing his swollen eye gently as he picked up his cell phone.

Both men left the room with no other instructions, abandoning the bag, cell phone, and wounded prisoner. After slowly getting to his feet, Thaddeus limped his way over to the bag, doing his best to shove the cell phone into his back pocket. Shouldering the pack with an audible grunt and a stumble of pain, he made the work of finding his way out of the labyrinth, out of a building he did recognize.

*

Rhonda rushed towards the Capital Building, Curly's warning ringing in her ears. Her father wouldn't answer his phone, and his aide simply said that he was unreachable at the moment. Panic raced through her as she sped through the streets, wishing that she could just go back in time before this helter skelter started. She could feel that same sense of foreboding and dread fill her, breathing down her neck and pushing her to near hysteria.

When the marble of Buckley Lloyd's office building came into view, she somehow ended up outside the car and running up the sidewalk. What possessed her to get out of the car, which moved faster, to run on foot was beyond her, but since she was out of the Aston Martin already . . .

Sweating buckets and certain all of his wounds had been reopened at least once, Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe slowly made his way up the service stairs, positive that Tweedledee and Tweedledum had released his name and face to the press. Although he was amazed that he had made it all the way into the Capital Building without getting stopped by security, he was really disappointed that no one had caught him. Where his tax dollars at work?

As he reach the fourth floor and meandered his way past door after door in search of Congressman John McGhee, he began to wonder just what in the hell was he doing? He saw countless people killed, one right next to him, and was probably on America's Most Wanted by now. Why? Why was he doing this?

There was the door, a good, solid oak, with gold lettering alerting any and all passersby just whose office it was. Setting down the bag, he could feel the tell-tale sign of another episode slithering towards his skull from every corner of his body. Anger seeped into him as well, when his phone began to ring. With everything in him, he willed his fingers to fight the shaking and pick up the phone.

"_The only antidote, is death._" Tweedledee's smug voice sneered over the line before hanging up, and Curly gulped loudly. The bag clicked once.

An earth-ending bang echoed through the street, setting off both car alarms and screams. Smoke plumed out from shattered windows along with the fiery blasts that come with high powered explosions. The force was enough to knock her onto her backside, and she felt her heart stop. One of the floors had collapsed into the next; it was like watching footage of the Twin Towers being taken down all over again. The hand she had used to cover her mouth began biting into her cheek to hold back the shriek of agony, tears in her eyes.

It was as if that one bomb destroyed the whole world.

HA


	13. Across The Universe

_**Disclaimer: This chapter has a bit of time-skipping, but that was what I was going for. I know you (Thundercatroar) probably hate me now, especially after the ending I'm giving you, but hey, I am writing a short sequel to this. So there. Hey! Arnold and the Beatles still don't belong to me.**_

HA

It had started raining. Hard. The world was a dark grey, fog and mist weaving through the dreary streets. It was quiet, even with all the sirens and emergency vehicles rushing towards the newest ground zero. News vans were hot on their tail, and soon everyone was watching transfixed as the scene played out on national television.

"_This is Andrea Bailey, here at the Hillwood City Capital Building, the scene of what appears to be a massive terrorist attack, closely following the Financial District bombings earlier this week. We've just been told that Thaddeus Gammelthorpe was the main bomber. He was also wanted for his involvement in the earlier bombings. Officials have just released that he was in the capital building when the bombs went off, which seemed to be located on the fourth floor. It's uncertain at this point how many people have been injured or killed, but it has been confirmed that Thaddeus Gammelthorpe was killed. I repeat, Thaddeus Gammelthorpe was killed._"

As the anchors continued to ask for information from the on-site reporter, Jolene and Ted seemed to stare off into space.

What? Curly? Dead? No, Curly can't be dead. That boy is too crazy to die, especially in a terrorist attack. It can't be, it can't be, it just can't . . .

Tears began to openly leak from her eyes as Jolene's chest hitched with her held back sobs. A cry escaped her lips as she gripped Ted's hand before falling against the nearest washer, weeping as she watched the soapy water spin. Ted collapsed next to her, cradling her as best he could even though he, too, was having a break down.

Openly crying, Jolene put a hand to the clear glass, wishing she could do nothing more then climb in and drown.

"Nothing's gonna change my world." She whispered brokenly, as she and Ted became two more victims of the bombings.

*

Arnold had wrapped an arm around Helga as she clung to him, their hearts breaking at both the massive death toll, and the news that their friend was the cause. The living room of Sunset Arms Boarding House was silent as they all absorbed the information.

"I just can't, I can't, why would Curly do something like that?" the football headed young man asked no one, which was fine, because no one had an answer for him. Against her better judgment, Helga let herself cry as she stared at the screen transfixed.

"Nothing's gonna change my world."

*

The ash and debris was falling all around her, but all she could do was stare at the building, fear gripping her heart like a vise. She wanted to throw up, but she couldn't; all she could do was sit and stare. Sit and stare and watch her world end.

_In through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the – _

"Ma'am?" a gentle voice called out to her, and Rhonda looked up to see a polite-looking fireman in his early thirties holding a hand out to her.

"Come on, Ma'am, let's get you over to an ambulance to get you looked at." He offered, and she nodded, still dazed over what she had just witnessed.

"I'm fine." Her voice was rough with emotion, and it was enough for him to know she wasn't. Maybe physically, sure, but she was definitely not fine.

Draping a wool blanket over her shoulders and handing her a cup of water, Rhonda noticed the multiple emergency vehicles, helping other people in the exact same manner. With all the chaos surrounding her, she was amazed that she couldn't really hear a thing. The tears and rain ran paths down her dirty cheeks without her knowledge or consent, all she could think of was her father.

And Curly.

""Oh my God, what happened here? What happened – Rhonda?" he head turning sharply, Rhonda found her lobbyist father approaching her ambulance, his suit tragedy-free and a Subway sandwich bag in his hand. She was up and in his arms in a second, gripping him fiercely as she sobbed into his chest.

"Daddy! I thought, I thought . . ." she couldn't finish her sentence, and Buckley Lloyd could understand why, what with all the destruction around them.

"Rhonda, honey, what on earth were you doing here?" his daughter pulled away from his embrace to better look at his face.

"Curly, he, he warned me that something like this would happen. He called me, told me to get you home and away from the office building as soon as possible. But you weren't answering your cell phone and one of your aides said you were unreachable. I got so worried, I had to, had to . . ." dropping off once again, she clung to him tighter as he whispered soothing words in her ear to try to calm her. A police officer who was standing nearby taking statements heard the name drop and turned to the pair with a stern face.

"Curly? As in Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe?" he asked firmly, and when she nodded, her father's face morphed from concern to shock. He had been watching the news in the restaurant, about that young man who had been using bombs to terrorize the city.

"Why were you talking with -" he just about unloaded onto her, but the policeman beat him to it.

"Gammelthorpe was killed, apparently it was a suicide bombing. Just how do you know him." Suspicion was clearly readable in his tone, but Buckley Lloyd was determined to put a stop to it. No Lloyd would be in league with terrorists.

"Now you listen here, officer, my daughter in no way had anything to do with that sick crim-"

"I love him Daddy." Rhonda cut him off calmly, and everyone was stunned she's said it, including herself. At first she wasn't sure, but once it was out in the air, she felt as if it had always been true.

"That's a shame, there's nothing left to love." the officer said with no compassion as he turned away to continue with his job. The way he said it, the tone of absolute contempt, forced Rhonda to look at the large void in the capital building.

The ground below her collapsed, and fell to her knees in tears, clutching her chest and desperately trying to claw out her pain.

*

It was still dark, depressing grey and raining. The small procession made their way out of the church and towards the cemetery, all of them allowing the rain to fall, soaking them in one sense, cleansing them in another. Ted, Arnold, Gerald, Sid, Stinky, and Herald were the pallbearers, with Jolene and Rhonda holding on to each other for comfort behind them. It was a closed casket funeral.

If only because the body was burned beyond recognition.

They buried him in silence, because partly for Chinese tradition, and partly because no one trusted their voice. They were content to stand and mourn, offering no prayers or words of comfort. Jolene openly cried in Ted's arms, while Rhonda simply held Nadine's hand and let the tears stream down her face.

They were being watch by policemen, with Curly's name being forever connected with terrorism the law didn't trust a single soul at the service.

"You bastards. You BASTARDS!" Jolene shouted at them in a moment of overpowering grief, before turning back to her forever sleeping brother, who had been placed next to their parents. The group passed around a shovel, and one at a time they helped cover Thaddeus Curly Gammelthorpe with his eternal blanket of earth.

As the rain picked up and time wove on, the mourners slowly wandered away, until only three people remained. Jolene and Ted could only watch on in sorrow as Rhonda finally allowed her despair to control her. She fell onto the mud of his grave, her hands beneath her chin and her head by the headstone as she read and reread what was engraved.

_Thaddeus 'Curly' Edwin Gammelthorpe_

_April 12__th__ 1990 – November 18__th__ 2007_

_Beloved Son, Brother, and Friend_

Curling and uncurling her fingers around his dirt, Rhonda could only manage one sentence, over and over and over again. It came out in broken sobs, but the family of her deceased loved one could still hear it just fine, even with the rain.

"Nothing's gonna change my world . . ."

HA


End file.
